When It Was Fun
by Space Mercutio
Summary: Two years after he thought Sonic was dead, Tails is led on the second frenetic journey of his life. But two years of not seeing a guy can make you doubt your unshakable faith in him, and things didn't end so well when Tails returned home last time. Even beatniks lose faith in each other. Set in 1950s America, human AU. Loosely based off 'On the Road' by Jack Kerouac.
1. I Throw Coasters

Of course Sonic busting down my door wasn't new at all. So why should I be surprised that half of my breakables were nearly crushed? That's the only plus about having a friend who can run seemingly faster than the speed of sound sometimes.

Still, he'd never burst in that powerfully before. So whatever was on his mind was something big. And I kind of just stood there with my mouth open.

"Hey, Tails. What's up?" he said in a blur. I didn't know how to react. I never do with a question like that. "No, seriously," he continued. "What's up? Are you free?" And instantly he was checking my calendar like a dog spotting a cat.

"Oh, good. You _are_ free." This conversation was stunningly one-sided. "I've got bus tickets all the way to the West."

And I threw a coaster, wildly, hoping it would hit him. It didn't.

Sonic, who'd ducked (but didn't need to), looked up, seeming unsure. "Uh...hey, I've got ferry tickets too. If you, uh, don't like buses?"

"Shut up. Stop talking, right now. Just don't!" I yelled. I hadn't seen Sonic for two years, and frankly, I thought he was dead. And then two years and I'd gotten a life, a house, a job!

"Um...does this mean you _are_ coming?" Sonic asked, completely ignoring me. Classic Sonic. Of course he was turning to leave already.

Two years ago, an early-graduated mechanic, struggling to hold a job, lost a door to a hyperactive beatnik called Sonic. The struggling mechanic, alias me, sixteen, was swept up in the wake of this person only one year older who seemingly couldn't stand still for five minutes. Frenetic journeys were made, but somewhere along the way, we got separated.

And that made me want to throw another coaster. For once in two years, I acted on impulse.

Sonic's face lit up in recognition. "Oh-so that's what you're angry about!" he said, and then added: "And doesn't that feel fantastic? Acting on impulse like that? C'mon," he finished with a quick jerk of the head.

And before I knew it, I was on a bus' window seat, determinedly _not_ looking at the guy beside me who'd been dead to me for two years.

Every so often Sonic would turn his head to glance over at me. I didn't humor him by responding. Somewhere along the way, I forgot where we were, dozed off, and woke to my shoulder being prodded repeatedly.

I ignored it.

Again with a prod. I made my displeasure known with a grunt.

Again with another prod. I finally turned. "What?" It was more of a bleak statement than a question. I didn't want to know.

Sonic was standing over me, holding on to a pole in between our seat and the seat in back of us. He stepped back and made a gesture with his hand to say, _Come on over here and stand._

"I don't want to," I grunted. Sonic's eyes flashed to someone in front of me, so I followed his eyes.

…Oh. Standing in front of me was an elderly lady who clearly couldn't be holding onto a pole for the entire ride. Awake now, I quickly jumped up and out of my seat to join Sonic. I felt terrible for being rude to Sonic in front of the old lady, and essentially, being rude to her. I wanted to criticize Sonic, but really there was nothing to criticize as of now. Really, I had thought of myself as the polite one.

"The polite one, and the one to brood about it when he's upset. Don't let it bother you, Tails, I told her you're an okay guy." Sonic was assuming a casual position against the pole. "I think brooding gives you wrinkles, anyway."

I tried to say 'shut up' with my eyes, but Sonic was oblivious. So I went about brooding.

The bus jerked, and Sonic nearly fell over. I tried not to laugh, because I really wanted to get back to my brooding. Which never ended up happening, in fact. Sonic took my arm and dragged me off the bus a minute later. "This bus is going way too slow, man. Come on, I know where we can get a faster ride." And we spent the next 10 minutes walking to a car joint that was farther away than it looked. Once there, Sonic began trying all the handles.

I guess this shouldn't have surprised me much; after all, Sonic used to borrow cars all the time. I only say borrow because, technically, he never crashed a stolen car, and he always returned it with some money. Sometimes he returned it with the little money we had left, which always irritated me. Jobs were not as easy to find then as they were ten years, twenty years before that.

But this time something was a little different about Sonic's 'borrowing'. He used to always have some kind of prayer (gag and bad pun alike included) thanking the car dealer for leaving the door unlocked. Oh, and this car was a blue and rather fancy-looking Pontiac. Which he never used to like.

"Sonic…are you okay?" I finally asked, five miles down the road.

"Huh? Uh. Yeah. Definitely." I remembered the way he'd broken down my door. Obviously he wasn't. We sped on.

Even if Sonic wasn't okay, I realized I'd missed his driving. I had been scared to drive since I got a license. Sonic had never been that way. If it was fast, he was on it. And surprisingly, his driving was safe even at 110 mph. He dodged cars like a mosquito. Although to other people it felt like careening, driving was one of the only things I trusted Sonic with.

And we were headed West. West was the holy place for beatniks like Sonic. And at that, I guess beatniks like me as well. West was the land of speed, bop, and night air. To other people, it was Station Square, but to us, it was West.

And I kind of dreaded going West.

* * *

The reason behind my sudden sour note started two years ago. I had two working copies of a machine in front of me, at my home, ready to go out to the world and show it what I could do.

A second later, I had one working copy of a machine in front of me and a boot on top of my formerly beautiful machine. Sonic. Of course by then I didn't recognize him by appearance, or rather I wouldn't have if I hadn't guessed from that look in his eyes.

Via letter correspondence from my college friend Rotor, I learned about Sonic. Sonic was a just-out-of-jail kid with no reason and no rhyme, except that he found the soul in everything. 'The soul' was an abstract term I'd started seeing in Rotor's letters. Evidently their relationship was a symbiotic one, at least as far as brains were concerned.

Let me just save you all the bother of describing this unusual mind marriage by showing you a letter excerpt between the two.

"Rotor—responding to your last letter. I believe that all the points which you hereby described are as significant as the matter of fact way you presented the alternative paradigms, that is to say…

"Nah, just kidding. Have you seen the bop scene out West? _The soul, man_. _The soul_. They know where it's at, man. They just blow and blow and blow and they never stop"

Sonic's words, like his lifestyle, kind of just always spilled out. But from what I gleaned from Rotor's letters, everything this Sonic said, or tried to say, or didn't even say so much as radiated, was meaningful. My mother didn't like him. I laughed. I knew she had a good reason for not liking him, yeah, but I wanted to unravel the mystery of this guy. And maybe someday be that guy.

So I knew the guy standing in front of me had to be Sonic. And he eagerly shook my hand, nodding vigorously, saying, "Show me around!" before I even had a chance to shake his hand back. But instead of me showing him around, the beatnik, the future village idiot and genius, the corrupted saint showed me a thing or two.


	2. We Visit a Friend

_Corrupted saint,_ I thought to myself. Despite what it sounds like, that was an accurate description of what he was like. But Sonic himself wouldn't let me think any further.

"Here we are," Sonic said ecstatically, jumping out of his seat and running to the door of a ramshackle cabin probably built within the space of 5 days.

"Who's here?" I asked, although I could guess before he said.

"Rotor Walrus," Sonic answered and I finished simultaneously.

"—Walrus. Figures. But doesn't he have a home more…north?"

"Are you kidding? He got kicked out of the house a while ago." To my surprised look, Sonic said, "Parents said I was a bad influence on him and he was too far gone."

Well, I had known that Rotor's parents were of a very strict kind of religion, but I never expected them to kick him out. I doubted it was just Sonic's influences that caused them to kick him out, and before Sonic knocked on the door, dozens of worst-case scenarios ran through my mind.

* * *

Rotor was probably the most laid-back person from a family like that I'd ever seen. He would call me up in the middle of the night and ask what I was doing, not because he wanted to go on some grand adventure, like Sonic, but because he was bored, tired, and wanted to know.

Once, I had met his parents. This was around my junior year of college, and I still didn't know exactly what I wanted to do with my life. Something involving mechanics, but I didn't want to work in some robotics sweatshop my whole life. Rotor invited me over for spring break, so I sent my mother a letter telling her where I would be, got in his car, and slept the whole way. Apparently I'm a heavy sleeper, and I snore—little tidbits I learned about myself. It's hard to learn things about yourself in a stuffy car.

But anyway, Rotor's parents. I got out of Rotor's nigh-steaming car, closed the door behind me, and sneezed. I remember all this because the first thing Rotor's mother said was, "God bless your soul," which was the longest version of 'Gesundheit' I'd ever heard. Funny stuff.

I turned. "Hello, ma'am. I'm Miles." I had to bite my tongue so I didn't say 'Tails.' I'd gotten used to the name over college.

"Smaller than Rotor, how about that?" Rotor's father said, extending his hand for a shake. I took him up on his offer while Rotor said irritably, "Dad, mostly everyone in college is smaller than me."

"But not smarter," his dad said, and, thinking this was the joke of the century, laughed profusely. I managed a polite grimace-smile. "Your friend appreciates my jokes!" Rotor's father continued. Wonderful, I'd set his old man on a tangent.

Rotor's mother ushered me in, but Rotor lagged behind. It's always an awkward situation when you're at a friend's place, and their parents reprimand them in the other room. Rotor's parents were not as stealthy, and no sooner was I through the door than Rotor was being scolded for sassing his elders. Although I felt sympathy for my college friend, I really wanted them to hurry up in their scolding just so that I could find a place to put my bags down without offending Rotor's family.

Instead, Rotor's father continued reprimanding him in a low voice, although I caught wonderful gems of fatherhood such as, 'You've been straying more ever since you hit your teens.' Rotor's mother, meanwhile, came in just as my arms were ready to give up the fight.

She said, "You can put those wherever," referring to my bags. I set them at my feet, and asked where I was going to sleep, and mentioned that I'd prefer these near my bed.

"Of course!" Rotor's mother said. "How silly of me! God bless your soul again." I tried not to agree with her, doing my best to be polite. "You'll be in the guest room next to Rotor.

Rotor's family was much taller than I was, or my mother. Naturally, the doorways were bigger, but the rooms were incredibly big. At least, compared to my dorm room, or my house's rooms. My new room was no exception, although the bed took up a lot of space on its own. I found a cozy corner on the far side of the room, and squeezed my bag in. I say squeezed because I've always been a prepared packer. I don't follow people like Sonic who just put in the things they think they'll need. I suppose my mother had a lot to do with that. I think I'd have grown up more like Sonic without her.

My first day at Rotor's house continued to be punctuated with Rotor getting scolded. Embarrassing? Yes. Unfortunate? Considering the circumstances now, yeah.

* * *

Sonic and I stood in the present while Rotor answered his ramshackle door.

"Rote!" Sonic greeted him. "How's life?"

"I'm getting by," Rotor said. "I work where I can, I get the things I need, you know."

I was pretty shocked to see my college friend leading, well, not the life I expected him to. That sounds judgemental, but each time I'd seen him before now, he'd been shaven clean, wearing what probably counted as the most finely pressed clothes I'd ever seen. Now, he wore thick, sometimes fur-covered clothing, had grown a beard, and wore glasses, rendering him almost a completely different person were it not for the voice.

When Rotor said 'Getting by', I took him at his word—not only did he look like he was leading the 'I get by' kind of life, he sounded beat. And I don't mean the beat movement, I mean tired. Dead tired. Life was obviously getting to him, but he said, "Come in," anyway.

"Oh, no!" Sonic laughed. "We're not coming _in_ , you're coming with us!"

Suddenly Rotor's interest piqued. He lit up. "Really? Are you headed out West again?"

Rotor seemed genuinely interested, which was when I realized that I'd never told him what had happened between me and Sonic two years ago. Inwardly, I cursed. Rotor's parents would have killed me.


	3. I Sulk (And More)

"Running on a full tank of gas!" Sonic eulogized. "Hey Rote? While we're out here where you live, why not show us what's hot around here?"

"Well, there's always the Ice House," Rotor said lightly. He and I both laughed; it was a joke we took from a musical we'd been to see in our college years. Sonic didn't get the joke, but laughed anyway. He was a people person, a benevolent parasite. An amplifier for good feelings. "Actually," Rotor said, "There's a coffee place a few blocks from here and I'd just like to catch up for a bit."

"Catch up. Sure. Sounds great," Sonic said, completely on board. We left the car a few steps from the coffee house, and entered.

Even back from when Sonic and Rotor had first met, they'd had this thing where they didn't actually talk. I know it sounds weird, but apparently, they could just communicate by staring at each other. Personally I thought it was some kind of intellectual high that Rotor got off of Sonic, though how I didn't know. At any rate, that's exactly what their 'catching up' turned out to be. With jazz playing in the background, in usual Sonic style. As a threesome, we all felt that jazz, or 'bop', was going to be the ambrosia of music two hundred years from now.

While Sonic and Rotor had their mind-meld, I distanced myself from them in wandering around. Eventually I ran out of cubic yards to wander, and I entertained myself by thinking more about the past.

* * *

On our very first outing, Sonic and I had picked up Rotor, making our current voyage a reprise of the past.

While in the past, I feel it would be only suitable for me to clear up some misunderstandings. A while back, I referred to Sonic as both 'village idiot' and 'genius'. Perhaps it's better to say that neither of them actually described him. The genius Rotor and I first felt from Sonic was his…mind explosions. There was no other way to put it. Sonic would get euphoric, drunk even, off of one little thing on the planet, and the only way Rotor and I could explain it was that he was a life genius. Or a witch doctor, one of those two.

But the 'village idiot' part is the one I want to talk about. No matter what he would do, Sonic's loose grip on reality made him come off as rather zany. But if that was the only thing about him, Rotor's parents probably would have kicked him out without a second thought. Sonic had this way of getting on someone's good side whether they liked it or not, which must have rubbed off on his parents. I remember Rotor's parents describing him favorably, anyway. I can only call it naïveté. He meant literally no harm in anything he did (apart from some friendly teasing).

So, this being Rotor's and my first road trip with Sonic, we were both absolutely euphoric off of him. I remember having hit a coffee shop just like the one we were in now as our first stop, where I don't remember much. That's really because (or at least Rotor has told me) Sonic and I were both drunk. I do remember dancing. There was a lot of that, and somewhere along the way we must have picked up a girl. That's how Amy Rose landed with us.

I remember Amy well. I'm still in touch with her, but she's changed. The way I remember her from two years ago was just as excited to be there as the rest of us. After the coffee and the dancing and the jazz, we must have offered her a ride, because when I did sober up, it was past midnight and Rotor didn't want to drive. Well, Sonic and I both had headaches, and Amy was dead asleep, so Rotor had brought out some blankets he'd helpfully packed in the trunk, took out a few burnable objects, and managed to whip up a campfire. It was a great night. Better than sleeping in a moving car.

* * *

Someone touched me on the shoulder. Sonic. "Hey, Rote says he wants to relive Campfire Night." He was referring to the campfire I just mentioned. "Feel like it?"

"We haven't danced yet," I said, half joking.

"You're absolutely right, we haven't! Let me go tell Rotor." Sonic went to go do just that.

The only problem was, there were no girls. At least, none that stayed for more than five minutes. Not to be deterred from his Reliving Campfire Night Experience, Sonic simply danced with Rotor. I sat from our formerly occupied table and laughed, enjoying the bop.

About fifteen minutes in, neither of them had stopped for breath, or for a drink, which was funny. In my peripheral vision, I'd noticed that a small group of two people had lingered around my table for an unusual amount of time, which I was curious about until I turned around. They were watching Sonic and Rotor, just like I was.

One of them muttered something. I figured I had heard them wrong: "Freaking gays."

I turned around and stared. I hadn't heard them wrong, I found out, as he continued: "Friends of yours?"

It took me a few awkward seconds to realize who he was talking about. "You mean them?" I said.

"Of course I mean them. How can you let them dance together like that, in public?"

Now, of course, people are more tolerant of homosexual preferences, but back then, you were either straight or you were disgusting. I knew that both Sonic and Rotor were straight, but I could follow this guy's thought train.

I tried to set him straight. "Actually, they _are_ my friends, but they're not gay, if that's what you mean." I admit I let a little venom sneak through, but I tried to be as polite as possible. Sonic I could grouch at, but not complete strangers.

The other member of their two-man party was a girl, presumably the man's wife or girlfriend. Nodding to both of them, I said, "Sit down. Stay a while."

The man misunderstood me. "Excuse me?"

Confused, I raised both hands. "It was a joke."

He looked at his wife/girlfriend/otherwise female relationship partner, and I understood the situation. He thought I was trying to talk her up. Unwilling to deal with this guy, who clearly had anger issues, and attempting to stay away from his wife/girlfriend, I moved to another table. Evidently this man didn't like that, and he tried to sit down in a huff. As he did so, he kicked the chair back and missed sitting in it on the way down. Oops.

I tried to hold back laughter. It didn't work. His female companion was trying her hardest as well, but once I started laughing, she couldn't help it.

The man stormed out and left. After a few seconds, I realized that he'd left his girl. They must not have been married after all.

Sonic only now noticed the pandemonium, and he, along with Rotor, moved towards the girl. At this point it was just the four of us, the musicians, and the owner of the place left inside.

"Did your guy just-?" Sonic started, and the girl nodded. She didn't seem sad about it. In fact, she seemed relieved. Sonic attempted a cheesy grin. "Well, we've got room in the back seat of our car."

"That sounds incredibly shady." Ah, so she talks. And with a slight Southern accent.

"I know. Care for a dance?"

So, for Sonic, the campfire night was nigh-complete. As for me, well, the way the guy had treated me left a sour taste in my mouth, not to mention the way this trip had come (and gone), so I felt that sulking was the best option at the moment. So I did just that.

* * *

Believe it or not, Sonic stopped Rotor's car in the middle of the highway (and the middle of the night) and told us he could have a fire set up within the next three minutes. He wasn't lying. While he muttered to himself and pulled out an entire tinderbox's worth of burnables, I climbed out of the car and continued what I prided myself on being a very good sulk.

The girl Sonic had danced with was called Bunnie, though whether or not that was a pseudonym or not was unclear. Sonic treated her affectionately just the same, which reminded me briefly of Amy Rose.

"Aren't you, Tails?" Oh, Sonic was interrupting my sulk once again. I asked for clarification in an annoyed, "What?"

"Are you having fun?" the girl, Bunnie, clarified.

I grunted. "I'm not, actually." And before Sonic or anyone could ask why, I said, "Sonic, you dragged me out here for no reason, or should I say, because you wanted to have a good time? And 'reliving' last time isn't an excuse." I was, to put it bluntly, angry.

Bunnie looked confused. Rotor looked a little lost. Sonic looked hurt. I said, "Don't look for me."

Sonic nodded. I prided myself on the venom I'd put into that one.

"Good. Don't do anything stupid," I said as a parting formality. To make up for it with myself, I kicked a blanket on my way out.

A few days later, I wandered back in through my mother's door. She asked, "What did you do, _walk_ back?"


	4. I Put Two and Two Together (Too Late)

As a matter of fact, I did walk home. The walk back gave me lots of time to think.

I was surprised at myself, to be honest.

* * *

After Campfire Night, I remember a day or two of travel, as fast as we could, as far as we could. Rotor probably doesn't even remember it. He and Amy Rose slept almost the whole day. I remember my mind wandering.

I realized just how little I knew about Sonic. Honestly, he'd just become my friend in the weirdest way...how could I describe it? To anyone but Rotor and Sonic, "intellectual high" just wouldn't cut it.

What were Sonic's goals? Did he live for anything but the universe itself? What did he dream about at night? What was his family like? Did he worry about anything?

Heck, I didn't know what his favorite color was.

"Alright there, Tails?" Sonic asked. Even after six hours, driving didn't faze him. Crazy, crazy hedgehog.

"Of course," I smiled weakly. Stupid.

"I'm gonna stop soon anyway. Get you a chance to stretch your legs. Feel free to chat up Amy Rose."

"Right, whatever." I rolled my eyes. I didn't want to roll my eyes, I wanted to ask him important life questions that would give me a deeper understanding of him. My tongue had other ideas.

We did stop, ten minutes later, at a gas station. I did, in fact, talk to Amy Rose. If ever there was a doll, two years ago, Amy Rose was her.

But I became concerned when Sonic was five minutes in holding us up. We'd begun to get restless, and I wanted to know what was taking so long.

Leaving Amy for a moment, I walked closer to the station. I gradually became aware of a smell, close to the station building itself. Dismissing it as gas, I kept looking for Sonic.

Maybe if I was lucky, I could ask Sonic about himself before his charismatic personality got in the way. Strange how great things about a person can be just as bad sometimes as their faults.

And people have faults, let me tell you. I could get cynical and snappy in a heartbeat. Rotor sometimes lapsed into his parents' strict ideas, giving you lectures at the worst time. So what was Sonic's flaw? Was he some kind of snake oil salesman by night? Was he a kleptomaniac? (Look, that one's true, actually. I'm not condoning it.) Really, what was his defining problem?

I walked around the gas station some more, not finding any hint of Sonic. I probably looked really dumb, and I finally gave up my search, leaning against a shady wall. The smell started to creep into my nostrils again, stronger over here now. I sniffed in, grimacing as it fully entered my nose.

Holy cow.

Holy cow, that wasn't gas.

That was actual smoke. Not fire smoke, cigarette smoke.

Back then, it wasn't too rare to see a college kid smoking. Luckily for me, I'd always been reminded of the dangers of smoking by not only my mother, but Rotor's parents as well. No one I knew smoked, not really.

And then I put two and two together.

I didn't know Sonic's major flaw. No one I knew smoked. I didn't really know Sonic myself. Sonic was the only person behind the gas station. He'd taken an unreasonably long time behind the station. And there was smoke coming from behind the gas station.

And that wasn't just any kind of cigarette, considering Sonic's behavior. His ideas were crazy, erratic. Intellectual high? Maybe it was more than that.

Dreading my conclusions, I debated whether or not to look behind the station. If I did look, I'd have to take responsibility. If not, I'd be enabling his drug abuse. Yeah, there it was, plain and simple. He was a druggie at this point.

Looking back, I have to say I'm glad I looked. It didn't save me any trouble, but it was the right thing.

Sonic dropped the pipe almost immediately. I could already tell he knew he'd been caught. His ears drooped, and he had a cornered look in his eyes.

"Aw, geez, Sonic!" I muttered, and he sank down to a sitting position.I crouched down to his level. "Why drugs, man?"

Sonic wouldn't look me in the eyes. With a start, he got to his feet, pushed past me, and began to run away.

My shoulder fell against the station brick - to this day I swear I've got shoulder problems - giving Sonic quite the head start. I cursed and began to follow him as fast as my legs could carry me. I learned something about Sonic: he hadn't been a long-distance runner in high school.

Even out West, there are still woods. I found Sonic by a thickly-branched tree, head in hands, slumped over.

"So that's what they put you in jail for," I muttered.

Sonic didn't nod, didn't really move at all.

"You know that stuff's gonna kill you, right?"

Another non-committal not-nod.

"Look," I sighed. "I can take you back to jail. Looks like the best thing I could do for you. But I won't."

"Ah, that's the thing," Sonic mumbled. "I'm not just fresh outta jail."

I ran a hand through my hair. "Oh, come on. So if I don't take you back, I'm a criminal?"

No movement.

* * *

I took Sonic to the Montana State Jail in silence, after dropping off a confused Amy Rose and an equally confused Rotor. It was a long, angry, silent ride. The police questioned me later on, but I'd managed to keep them from Rotor and Amy by being the only one to deliver him.

I didn't really know if he'd ever kicked the habit. That got me thinking.

And then it hit me, for the second time. What if Sonic had never kicked the habit? Oh, who was I fooling; two years and then an Ok-you're-fine never happened with the police department!

Sonic needed me, if only to put him back into jail.


	5. Forgiveness

My mother was as surprised to see me leave as she'd been to see me come back. I immediately hopped the fastest train of Greyhound buses possible—I think I set a world record—and soon found myself at a drugstore in Illinois, the same state where Rotor lived, and only one state away from where I lived. Sonic hadn't gotten far, and I was sure he wouldn't get much farther before he found a place selling the stuff he wanted.

I power-walked into the drugstore, moving straight to the counter. "Can you send out a warning to the nearby stores that there's a guy looking for drugs in the area? Yeah, illegally," I clarified.

Inwardly, I felt terrible, and though I'd wanted to go and find Sonic personally, my conscience wouldn't let me do it. I felt like I was betraying a friend, which may've been true, but it didn't make me want to see him anymore. It was concrete in my mind—the guy was still addicted.

I really can't emphasize how guilty I felt. I pictured Rotor and Bunnie, being questioned, not knowing a thing. But I guess I'm one of those black-and-white types after all, huh? I'd probably hate myself, if I ever met me.

* * *

I wasn't there, but I read the news.

They cornered Sonic two days later, not too far from Illinois—they'd made it one state further, and it caught them off-guard for a bit. I actually got some letters from Rotor following the incident—I ignored them. To this day, we've made up, but we weren't exactly on speaking terms for a while, and he was in the dark for a long time.

I honestly couldn't say what happened to Bunnie. I wasn't able to find her in any Yellow Pages.

So what of Amy Rose?

Well, she came to visit me a month or so later. My mother called me to the door, explaining it was a friend who "knew me a year ago." I didn't want to let her in after I saw who she was, but I couldn't really let her stand out there with nowhere to go. We made our way into our living room, and I motioned for her to sit down.

"I heard about that Sonic guy." She stared at me, as if expecting me to jolt to life. Nothing happened.

"When?" was all I could ask.

"I had to do some digging. It took me a while, but I finally found out the whole story."

"Sit down. Say whatever it is you came to say," I sighed. I'd have to confront this sooner or later.

Amy sat down, took a deep breath. I took one myself. "I think," she said, "you should go see Sonic."

"No." Oh, how eloquent I was after all these years. Clearly my travels had made me a very worldly man—

"Why not?" Amy asked. "Trust me. I've been in this kind of situation before."

"My answer's still no," I grumbled. I also still didn't really want to talk about Sonic, much less about him. "What makes you think talking to him is going to help anything?"

Amy took a breath. "I can tell you don't want to talk to him for his sake."

Showing off my caustic side, I said: "Really? What gave you that idea?"

I was interrupted. "—So talk to him for your sake."

I frowned. She continued.

"I had a mother who was addicted. She went to jail at thirty—she'd had me young—but never quite broke the habit. It took me a long time, and a lot of unpleasant thoughts, but I ended up forgiving her. If I hadn't talked to her later, it never would have happened."

I still didn't say anything; I didn't really know _what_ to do. Should I hear her out? Should I express my disbelief?

"And anyway," she said, voice rising, "you practically tore down any chance of recovery he had!" She stood up and jabbed her finger in my face.

Now I could respond. "How'd you get _that_? The only things I said were disapproving!"

"That's exactly it," Amy said. She sat back down. "Dissaproving is not support, and support is exactly what Sonic needed. What he still needs."

She was guilt-tripping me, but I couldn't fault her for it. It was for good reason—and it didn't hurt that I knew she was right.

* * *

It's been a long time, so I don't really remember when Amy left. I know she didn't stay long, though, and that I spent quite a time thinking about what she said. I remember calling machines affectionately Sonic-styled names, and that was when I knew I had to get off my butt and see him.

That one last drive up to Montana did me some good. I didn't think it was going to, at all, but you'd be surprised.

In those days, seeing a friend or relative was easier. People weren't so jumpy as they are now (not that they don't have reason to, things were just different back then). Prisons weren't filling up like wildfire like they are now, either.

Armed with an ID and a guilty feeling in my stomach, I found Sonic. He had his own cell, but surprisingly, he looked far better than I expected to. Even so, when he saw me, his face crumpled.

"Hey," I said softly.

Sonic sighed. "Man, I knew I'd have to make this apology sooner or later. I'm sorry I got you all into a mess—"

"—No, Sonic, don't apologize—"

"—how bad were the police?"

"Sonic, everything was fine. I mean," I corrected myself, gesturing at him, "fine for us. I came to apologize, actually."

"I'm not gonna let you apologize for sending me where I deserved to go," he half-joked. I knew he didn't mean it in a bad way, he meant it as a friend.

"And I'm not gonna let you apologize for something that was my doing," I said.

Sonic scratched his head. "I guess we're both at an impasse."

Shaking my head, I said, "No, no, it's my fault you ended up here. I'm going to make you forgive me if it's the last thing I do." I was surprised that it came out of my mouth.

"Tell you what," Sonic said out of the blue. "When I get out of here, we're actually going to see the world."

I stopped talking, and started thinking.

"I'll take you up on that," I finally said. "One last trip, right?"


End file.
